Feet-First
by Melpomene17
Summary: From the get-go, he wasn't like other Malfoys; it was a fact that Scorpius Malfoy had been born feet-first. And Lucius didn't like it one bit. In fact, there wasn't much Lucius liked about his grandson at all. He was a very impressionable little boy in a new age. There was no telling what kind of ideas the Weasley scum would be putting into that white-blond head of his...(Scorose)


A/N: welcome to my story! I hope you enjoy and don't be afraid to review; comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated!

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Chapter One: Lucius

Lucius chewed slowly. He held his fork delicately in his right hand and scrutinized the small child before him. Besides the child, who was too young to read the atmosphere, the table sat in uncomfortable silence.

Scorpius swung his legs in the chair that was too big for him as he chased peas around his plate, through his mashed potatoes, and off the side of the table. He paused to blink at each of them as they landed on the floor with three consecutive splats.

"Don't play with your food." Lucius reprimanded. He had not swallowed yet, and Scorpius could see the little flecks of potato and gravy that clung to his lips.

"I'm not playing, Grandfather." Scorpius replied defensively, "The peas wouldn't stick to my fork."

Lucius finally swallowed. "Don't talk back." He corrected sharply. "Such insolence is…ill advised." He turned to his son and daughter-in-law. "I expected you to raise your son to respect his elders. He _should_ be acting with the dignity of a Malfoy."

Draco shifted uncomfortably under the harsh blue glare of his father, but the more resilient Astoria, who was not used to her parenting being criticized, folded her napkin and returned Lucius's gaze.

"Come now, he's only three. Grace will come with time."

Scorpius twirled his fork awkwardly in his hand. At some point the handle had fallen in his gravy, which had since been transferred to his small fingers and from there to his left cheek. Lucius stared at him in disgust.

"Boy," He said, "You _are_ magical, aren't you? I should hope that I don't have some Muggle scum for a grandson. You certainly act like one."

It was Draco and Astoria's greatest fear that they might have produced a non-magical child, a squib. If the case was thus, Lucius could not be trusted to refrain from staging some 'accident' for the child, and much as the Malfoys had their pride as a pure-blooded wizarding family, Draco and Astoria did so love their son. He had shown no signs of magic thus far in his short life, but as Astoria had pointed out, he was only three and there was plenty of time for his wizardry to manifest.

Scorpius frowned at Lucius's comment. Astoria had always taught him that it was impolite to look down upon Muggles, and that Muggle-born wizards were just as capable as pure-blooded ones.

"Mother says –"

"A- _hem_." Draco cleared his throat and cut Scorpius off. He knew that it would not do for Lucius to hear what Astoria said about Muggles. After all, the old man had been confined to the grounds of Malfoy Manner for a good reason; he was incapable of saying three sentences without squeezing some sort of derogatory Muggle comment in. While throughout the world, hatred for Muggles and those related had been quelled considerably, Lucius's hatred had only grown. "The food is wonderful, Astoria darling." Draco finished.

Lucius sneered. "It would have been better if there were House-Elves to make it. Horrid S.P.E.W. activists, always sticking their wands in where they don't belong."

…

Much to his parents' relief, Scorpius showed his wizardry at the age of six and a half when, after being continually harassed by the garden gnomes that had evaded the gardener, he unknowingly created an invisible shield of sorts around himself. Upon contact with this shield, the gnomes would be blasted away and Scorpius was safe from pinching-induced bruises and having his hair picked out by tiny wrinkled fingers for the remainder of the afternoon.

On the other hand, his parents were _not_ relieved by the fact that Lucius Malfoy showed no signs of slowing down in his old age. When he was not ranting about the plague of Muggles upon society, he was lamenting about the Dark Lord's demise or pining for his friends who had life sentences in Azkaban (even though he'd been the one to rat them out to the authorities in the first place). And despite the silver-topped cane and the long, white hair, Lucius remained a spry, mobile, and straight-backed man well into his later years, never missing a chance to remind Scorpius of the fact that as one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, the Malfoys were by definition high above the blood-traitors and Mudbloods of the wizarding world.

It did not help that Lucius had taken a dislike to Scorpius from the moment he was born, and was always telling the child to mind his manners, or to be more Malfoyish, or to stop sniveling (when he cut himself on the garden fence).

And so it was that Scorpius grew up quite an insecure and conflicted boy in his pre-Hogwarts years. With his mother telling him one thing when Lucius wasn't around, and his much more frightening grandfather telling him another no matter who was around, and his father staying out of it as best he could, Scorpius wasn't quite sure where he stood in the world.

"What do _you_ think, Father?" He asked Draco one day when Astoria was out shopping and Luscious was in his wing of the mansion brooding to himself. Draco looked up from his copy of the _Daily Prophet_.

"About what?"

"About Muggles."

Draco had always remained silent on the topic, for he feared Astoria's wrath as much as he did Lucius's. He no longer called people Mudbloods or openly regarded them with disdain, but it was hard to shake the old feeling that Muggle-borns were inferior and pure-bloods were the top of the food chain, and deep down he really did like to feel that he was better than most other people. But he did want to be a good father, and knew that the elitist pure-blood view was much frowned upon.

"Hmm it's up to you, Scorpius." He replied, not realizing that Scorpius was in search of a third perspective. "There are some things you've got to figure out on your own."

And that was Draco's word on the matter.

…

King's Cross Station was loud and dirty and crowded. It smelled of a combination of smoke and sweat and homeless people, and was quite overwhelming for a small boy who had rarely been outside the walls of Malfoy Manner.

"Goodbye, dear." Astoria kissed her son lightly on the forehead and turned him around by the shoulders to face the train. "Eat your vegetables, mind your professors, and don't forget to write once a week. We'll see you at Christmas."

Thankfully, Lucius had not insisted upon accompanying the family to see Scorpius off, preferring instead to spend the day in his room doing who-knew-what. He had not even deigned to say goodbye to his grandson, something that did not bother Scorpius in the slightest. The way he saw it, the less time he had to spend interacting with Lucius, the better off he was.

Draco offered only a quiet "Goodbye" while his gaze wandered over to a group of people not far away. Scorpius glanced over to see a stringy man with round glasses deep in conversation with an anxious boy, and several red-haired people nearby. The red-haired father was pointing towards Scorpius and whispering something to his red-haired daughter. Scorpius quickly looked away to avoid making eye contact.

And then he was off, with one hand pushing his trolley containing his trunks and his pet owl, Aristotle, and in the other hand he clutched tightly his new wand.

"Willow and unicorn hair," he whispered to himself as he pushed his way through the throng of people, "ten and a half inches, bendy." This Scorpius repeated over and over, and he took comfort in the thought that this wand would produce great magic, would make him powerful. Then, he knew, Lucius would have to recognize his grandson, and would respect him as an equal instead of a Muggle-like bug.

But in his eleven-year-old mind, Scorpius did not realize something that those with age and wisdom do: A wizard's power does not come from his wand; a wizard's power comes from within.


End file.
